On the subway earlier, saw a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with a t-shirt that said something about avoiding drugs and being "high on life." I'm not making this up. But the kicker is that he had a cigarette behind his ear.

I couldn't resist.

"Is that a cigarette?"

Long pause, probably wondering if I'm going to ask to bum one.

"Yes," as he takes it out and holds it in his fingers in a demonstrative, open-for-exam sort of way, not sure why I'm asking.

"It's the t-shirt. I'm confused."

He kinda nodded, put it away, looked a little annoyed but he didn't say anything. Maybe he thought I was a serious anti-drug zealot out to give him shit.

So I'm at my grandmother's house now. Funeral is tomorrow. I'm told the family isn't fighting ..."yet." Which is precisely why I don't do the whole nuclear unit dance. What a pain in the ass it is to have people inject themselves into your life under the premise that their sister fucked your father. Ugh.

Today I had an uncle comment "no cellphone, no car? We're gonna have to talk."
"...about what?"

We haven't had more than a 2-minute conversation in the last decade, what did you have in mind? Set me straight on which bullet points you think I need to check off my to-do list before I die?

I think it's good to let them know upfront that their values are not mine and while I'm all for a good debate, they dictate precisely jack and shit in my life.

I sometimes think half of this family is held together by their need to piss each other off.